Flight Delay
by Smackalicious
Summary: The ache in his chest doesn't come from going somewhere new. It comes from leaving her. Frasier/Roz. Tag to Goodnight, Seattle. ONESHOT.


**Title: Flight Delay**  
><strong>Pairing: FrasierRoz**  
><strong>Rating: K+<strong>  
><strong>Genre: Het<strong>  
><strong>Cat: Drama, Episode Tag, Romance<strong>  
><strong>Spoilers: Tag to Goodnight, Seattle<br>****Warnings: None.  
><strong>**Summary: The ache in his chest doesn't come from going somewhere new. It comes from leaving her.  
><strong>**Author's Note: So I have been working on my monster fic, but it's pretty slow going, and I just wanted to write a random oneshot and I had this idea a couple weeks ago, so ya know, have yet another post-finale fic, lol. **

* * *

><p>He waits in the terminal, watching the planes outside roll over the tarmac, loading and unloading, bringing people to Seattle or jetting them away. A sudden shriek draws his attention and he looks over to where an attractive young woman has just met a group of friends. They laugh and hug, and he can't help but feel a little bittersweet. He won't have anyone waiting to greet him when he lands in San Francisco, nobody to share in the new experience he's about to begin.<p>

"Now boarding: Flight 262 to San Francisco, Gate C3."

He turns his attention back to the gate, where passengers are lining up to start boarding, but rather than join them, he sits and watches, and thinks. It's not uncommon for him to sit back and observe – he's inherently curious and enjoys people watching; it's part of what made him want to go into psychiatry in the first place. There are so many people, at so many different points in their lives, and it's almost overwhelming when he thinks about it that way, so he focuses on the first person who catches his attention.

In this case, the person is actually people – a woman and her young daughter. The mother with her shoulder-length hair tied up in a ponytail to escape the probing hands of her daughter, dressed in pastel colors only deemed appropriate for toddlers and elderly women. The girl reaches up to her mother, wanting to be held, and the mother obliges, but with a heavy sigh – she's already lugging a carry-on bag and her purse; the last thing she needs is to hold a small child, as well.

The scene is all so very familiar, and he lets out a sigh as another face appears in his mind's eye.

Roz.

Yes, as he watches the mother haul her daughter closer to the plane, Frasier finds his thoughts on his former co-worker (and what a strange thought that is, they've worked together day in and day out for so long, over a decade) and constant best friend. He'd miss everyone in Seattle, since that's where most of his family resided, but he couldn't deny that Roz was the person he would miss the most. They'd been through so much together, both good and bad, and when he'd announced he was leaving, she seemed the most affected out of everyone.

He lowers his head as he thinks of her reaction, how emotional she had been, the tears he felt desperate to stop, especially now. At the time, he hadn't really processed what he was losing by moving to California, because he thought, I can just get on a plane and come back whenever I want, but the reality of it was that he'd miss his father being there when he got home, meeting Niles for a cup of coffee at Nervosa, seeing Roz through the glass at work.

He's a self-reliant man, can certainly handle living by himself and meeting new people – he did it in Boston, and to some extent when he moved back to Seattle – but the ache in his chest doesn't come from going somewhere new.

It comes from leaving her.

He hasn't allowed himself the luxury of mourning their missed chances, how even after they had the perfect opportunity to change things, neither of them seemed willing to make that jump. He had told himself after it happened that things happened the way they did for a reason, that they were just meant to be friends and nothing more, but he doesn't really believe that. He's been filling the void with random women, and he's noted that Roz hasn't exactly been striking it rich in the dating department, either.

He's been wallowing in his own misery for so long that he barely registers the woman before him until she speaks.

"Excuse me, sir?"

He looks up, finding a woman about his age giving him a pleasant smile. Her uniform gives away that she works there, she's not just chatting him up, and he realizes it wouldn't even matter if she was, his thoughts are so firmly on Roz. Not that it matters, because he's leaving and she's staying and. . .

"I'm sorry, can I help you?" he finally manages to say, knowing he's wasting this nice woman's time by sitting there and daydreaming about his best friend.

"Are you boarding the plane for San Francisco? We're waiting for the last few passengers to board."

"I. . ."

"Frasier!"

He hears her voice before he sees her, and it's desperate and breathless, like she's been running through the entire airport to find him, and then he sees her, her hair flying behind her as she runs up to him, her cheeks flushed from her efforts.

Frasier is out of his seat and at her side in a moment, reaching out and grasping her forearms, both to calm her down and to ensure that he's not imagining this, that she's really here. "Roz? What are you doing here? Has something happened?"

She's shaking her head before he even finishes his question, and it takes her a few more moments to catch her breath before she says, "No, nothing's wrong. Except that, well, yes, everything's wrong!" She stomps her foot and he can see then that she's trying desperately not to cry, but is failing miserably. Her voice cracks when she speaks again. "You're leaving."

He just stares at her, his heart breaking at the pain on her face, and he wants so badly to hold her and never let her go, but his flight. . .

As if the airport attendant can read his mind, she breaks the moment. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but the flight is about to depart."

Frasier doesn't take his eyes off Roz. "I'll reschedule," he finally says, and he sees a glimmer of hope in Roz's eyes at his words.

"We can't offer you a refund on your ticket, you realize. . ."

"I don't care." And he realizes as he lifts a hand to brush away some of the tears that have escaped Roz's eyes that he really doesn't. _This _is what matters. _Roz _is what matters.

The woman finally walks away and it's then that Roz collapses into Frasier's arms, both of them clinging to the other like they'd never have the chance to do so again. Frasier closes his eyes and inhales deeply, taking in the scent that is so distinctly Roz – floral shampoo and soft perfume, delicate scents that seem so opposite the fiery, passionate woman that she is. His hand comes up to cup the back of her head, and he drags his lips across her forehead, not even paying attention to where he's kissing her, just needing the contact.

After another minute or two, Roz pulls back, shaking her head again. "I'm sorry I made you miss your flight," she says, and Frasier has to smile at that.

"No you're not," he responds, and Roz shrugs.

"Yeah, you're right," she agrees. She hesitates, then says, "I don't even know what came over me. All I know is that I was thinking about how your flight was today, and suddenly I couldn't let you leave . . . without seeing you." The last part is tacked on, like she's actually okay with the fact that he's leaving her, when she's clearly not.

"You know what's funny is that," Frasier chuckles, and Roz stands up straighter, preparing herself physically for what he might say, "while I was sitting here, even while the rest of the passengers were boarding, all I could think about . . ." he makes sure he's looking her in the eye as he finishes, "was you."

Even though she hoped he was going to say something along those lines, Roz is visibly shocked at his words, her eyes wide and jaw slack. "What? Me?"

"Well, I mean, you seemed pretty upset when you realized I was actually leaving," he says lightly, and Roz rolls her eyes and smacks him.

"Don't be a jerk," she mumbles, and he nods, reaching out and taking her hand. She looks down at their joined hands, her thoughts racing, then looks back up at him. "I don't really think of you like a brother. That would be weird."

"Well, that's a relief, because all I've wanted to do since you've shown up is kiss you."

Frasier holds his breath as he waits for a response, knowing he needed to be bold and lay it all out there – she had shown up here for a reason, and he was tired of them ignoring the obvious sexual tension and whatever else was going on between them.

Roz's voice is quiet as she responds. "Then what are you waiting for?"

And just like that, all the tension leaves his body. He smiles as he pulls her to him, lifting a hand to her head and just gazing at her before lowering his lips to hers, savoring the kiss like it was the last one they'd have, which he knows now is far from the truth. Though they haven't said as much, this is their way of acknowledging their feelings for each other, how it _is _more than simple attraction, how just the thought of being apart is enough to risk everything they have – jobs and their deep friendship – because they know it's a risk they need to take.

When they pull away, they take a moment to grin stupidly at each other, then Frasier turns to grab his carry-on before returning to Roz and slinging his arm around her shoulders. She wraps her arm around his waist as they begin their walk out of the airport. Later, Frasier will remember that his luggage is on the plane to San Francisco and will have a furious conversation with the airline about returning it, but at the moment, he's in such a state of euphoria that nothing bad can touch him.

"So I don't suppose you've gotten around to replacing me at the station yet, have you?" Frasier asks as they walk, remembering that she's the station manager now and therefore in charge of those decisions.

"Why, you know someone looking for a job?" Roz jokes, and the glare Frasier shoots her way would be deadly if he wasn't in such a good mood. She grins at him. "I'd be your boss, you know. You think you can handle that?"

"Probably not," he answers honestly, and Roz looks at him with wide eyes. "But if it means getting to see you every day, I'll manage."

A grin slowly snakes its way across Roz's face, and she leans into him as she says, "Why did we wait so long?"

Frasier sighs. "Perhaps we just needed the threat of change."

Roz makes a face. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder?"

"Except I wasn't gone yet, so we just sped up the process."

Roz shoves him. "You're really an ass sometimes, you know that?"

He laughs and squeezes her. "But you wouldn't have it any other way."

"Mmm, I don't know. I'd probably change a few things."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Rozalinda Doyle."

"Careful – I'm your boss now."

"So you are giving me my job back."

"I guess."

"It's a good thing you're a good kisser."

"I am a _great _kisser. "

_Fade out. . ._

**THE END!**


End file.
